“From the Ninth Floor” by Lex Bobrow

After I Could Not Imagine by Anton Marrast

we twist out of the window

, glass in DNAspiral about us

we are

drowning in air            we are

free

?          the glass furrowed our skin

on its way to plague the ground

but your naked body

sings the blood well

(in ribbons

) neatly twisting from your jaw

to the pinkyou

where we will meet

to the pinkyou

I reach             for

our redlife

rains

on the people (

descended from serfs, they

, thinking us royalty, will shout

their throats

silent

for us to come             down—

but we will not

we are not fountains

)

my index finger           reaches the pinkyou

and midflight,

you stop

to smile with

both sets of lips

(there are bits of glass in your hair,                lady,

there are bits of glass

in your hair)

as I press my

ashes-to-ashes

to your

dust-to-dust

Lex Bobrow is a writer fresh out of school living in south Florida. As a result, he writes a lot about hurricanes and citrus fruit, which makes him laugh at how Floridian he is. More than anything–at his core–he wants to be captivating and therefore powerful.